


Croix's Parable

by Antigo



Series: Feat. The Narrator [2]
Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Chariot is still smitten, Crack, Croix is one crazy dame, F/F, Fluff, Humor, and when i say crazy, i mean she has a diagnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 22:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigo/pseuds/Antigo
Summary: A voice in her head? Why, that’s quite an interesting development.Perhaps she should feel at least a bit skeptical at the whole ordeal, what with its odd nature and its unrelenting insistence on controlling her every such move. But it seemed to be much too wasteful to discount such a riveting conversational partner. Especially one who could easily keep up with her undeniable brilliance.OrIn which Croix finally finds the cure to the Wagandea curse and gets the girl. Admittedly, It’s all awfully convenient for her tastes. Some would even call it romantic. But she’s not about to complain.





	Croix's Parable

Croix had her feet up on her desk and her arms behind her head. She was mulling over the number of failed attempts she will have for the day. After all, the results of her experiments for the past few months weren’t promising at all. She won’t be surprised if that number went up considerably by the end of the day.

Fortuitously, today is going to be her day.

“It is?”

It will be the day she found the cure for the elusive Wagandea curse.

“It will?! That’s awesome sauce.”

She laid her feet down from her messy desk, put aside the mess and began formulating her formula for success.

“Sooooo, those sheets I just threw on the floor? They’re kiiinda important, just so you know. Also, I’m literally just pouring these random ingredients into a single flask- you’re telling me this is okay? Aaand that mushroom’s kinda lethal- yup, just put it in? Okay then.”

And at last, Professor Croix added the last ingredient to the concoction, Chemical L.

L that stands for Love.

Love that is the only magic that could ever restore anything to balance. Love that is eternally generous and patient. Love that will finally bear fruit after ten long mournful years.

“That, is the most beautiful thing I’ve heard since I was sent here to solitary confinement.” Croix wiped an earnest tear.

“Oh, by the way, I have the whole alphabet here- from Chemical A to Z, just in case. I’m partial to Chemical V because it stands for Vag- ”

Just then, the wooden door of the tower opened. Enter Francis- her warden. That’s what he insists to be called of course, but Croix thinks of him as her close friend.

“Here’s your meal, Croix. Lamb chops, extra rare.” Francis placed the tray on the table. He then took notice of the flask in Croix’s hand.

“Is that another one of your attempts? Did you try it yet?” He motioned towards the black liquid contained in another flask that has the Wagandea pollen.

“Not yet, Francis. Want to see if it works? I have a great feeling about this one.” Croix said with a knowing grin.

“Sure, why not.” He shrugged and moved closer.

Croix dropped a droplet with the dropper into the flask filled with black liquid. At first, nothing happened, and Francis pulled back from watching the liquid and was ready to console Croix.

After a beat, the liquid began to swirl, creating a small tornado within the flask. The whirl then began to clear up, and little by little as it began to stabilize, it became transparent.

The liquid, now only pure water, is cleansed of the Wagandea pollen.

“It worked!” Surprisingly, it was Francis who cheered.

“Holy shit! It fucking did, didn’t it? Did it?” Croix was still in disbelief. After all her hard work, all the failed attempts- it had finally been worth it.

“It fucking did.” Francis assured, just as happy for his friend.

“Now I can see Chariot, right? I need to take this to her after all.” Croix was already celebrating, packing her bags to see her best friend.

“Uh… I don’t know about that, Croix.” Francis hated to be the bearer of bad news, especially when they were celebrating mere seconds ago.

“What? What do you mean?” Croix stood up, a bit of anger in her eyes.

“Well, you’re still a prisoner, man. And you’re still doing your sentence. I mean, you actually have it better than the other blokes stuck here with your own private tower and all. Since you were actually trying to make a cure for a curse, the ministry gladly provided the necessities for you.” He gestured at the lab equipment at the other side of the very large tower.

“God, stop making sense, Francis.” Croix fell back to her bed, and covered her eyes, spent.

“Hey, you need to hear this. Voice of reason, remember?” he gestured at himself and continued, “If you want out from that long ass sentence of yours, you just have to prove that you’ve been doing good in here, and maybe the judge can allow you to go out for parole. So yeah, you have to wait for that.” He finished.

“Ugh. I _really_ hate it when you make sense.” Croix was now disheartened. Sure, she could say that she finally found the cure to the Wagandea curse, and the ministry will surely take it from her hands. And from what they’d presume would be a huge generosity on their part- they’d also send the cure to Chariot.

And Chariot can finally fly again.

In retrospect, that’s not something Croix should be disheartened about.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She concedes, but her heart still aches, “But I had it all planned out! I would show up at Luna Nova and surprise her, and I’ll present the cure to her myself! In person! And we’ll fly under the beautiful moonlit sky together, make out, and probably have se-!”

“Okay, okay I get it, man. You want to be there when she gets it. Probably say sorry about the almost killing some minors, and all that dramatic shit. It sucks I know, but it’s still…”

As Francis consoles her with his ‘reasonableness’ and how seemingly unsolvable her problem is and how people don’t always get their way because ‘this is real life’, Croix tunes him out.

Because Croix, was smarter than that.

She knows in her heart that the universe wouldn’t allow two lonely hearts to stay lonely any longer.

The universe wouldn’t just turn its back to her now. Not when she’s finally found the cure. Not when she fought long and hard for her and Chariot to be together again.

Not now.

She will finally see Chariot du Nord. Her one true love. And she knows in her heart that that is true.

“That’s beautiful.” Croix muttered, tearing up a little.

“Hey man, it’s okay to be sad. Let it all out.” Francis consoled consolingly.

“Nah, these aren’t sad tears. They’re tears of joy.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna see her, Francis. He says so after all. He helped me with the cure, and now he’s going to help me see Chariot.” Croix looked at her friend with the most hopeful eyes.

“Uh- What now? Who? Who’s ‘he’?” Francis scrunched his brows, concerned for his friend.

“He! Him! I think he has something to do with the universe? I don’t know. God, maybe? Don’t you hear him?” Croix gestured at her ears.

“Uh…nope.” Francis tried to listen, but there was no man he can hear at all.

“Pff- what a normie.” Croix muttered, crossing her arms in defeat.

“Aaalright, I’m scheduling you with another appointment with the psychiatrist right now.”

“What? Hell No! That man creeps me out! He calls me his ‘Little Lamb’! You’ll have to drag me into his office if you want me to see him because I’m staying right here.” Croix begrudgingly kept her arms crossed.

 “You’re going, and that’s final.” He said, tired of having to have to scold a grown woman. Especially if said woman was older than him.

Just then, there’s a knock on the door. Partially Enter- one of the unnamed guards.

“Mail, bro.” he waves the mail.

“Mail?” Francis goes over to the door and takes it from him. The unnamed guard made his partial exit.

“What’s that?” Croix comes over, curious.

“Mail, man.”

“Mail?”

“Yeah, it’s addressed to you, apparently. From…Top Brass.” He handed it to her, a bit of incredulity in his tone.

“Pff- Top Brass? That can’t be what it actua- Yep, it does say Top Brass right here. My bad.”

Curiouser and curiouser, Croix quickly opens the letter, scans the contents and shoves it back into Francis’ hands.

“Tell me I’m not just being delusional.” She said, biting her lip in distress.

Francis ran his eyes over the letter, his eyes widened at each sentence.

“Holy Shit.”

“Yeah” Croix is still biting her lip, ready for the other shoe to drop.

“It says here that they want you to go back to Luna Nova because you’re more of an asset there with all your research and the resources available there. They _actually_ want you to develop technological magic even after all that shit you just pulled. And you’re staying there for the rest of your sentence? What the hell? It even has the official ministry seal, right here! And it’s in _gold_. It doesn’t get any more official than that.” Francis was now in total disbelief.

“So that’s really what it says? I’m not delusional? Holy fucking shit!” Croix was now celebrating, jumping for joy, and packing her bags once again.

“Is this sort of contrived bullshit what they call a Deus Ex Machina?”

“What?” Croix stopped what she was doing to look back at Francis.

He only shook his head, bemused, “Nothing, man. You’re still going to have to see the psychiatrist though.” He raised a brow in challenge.

“What? Fine! It’ll be the last time I’m seeing him anyway.” She huffed, defeated. But still, meeting the psychotic psychiatrist doesn’t really sour her mood entirely. Not when she’s finally going to see Chariot.

“So, this is it then?” Francis handed the letter back to Croix, his sad tone isn’t lost on her.

“I’m not going to war, Francis. Don’t be too sad about it.” She nudged his shoulder in jest.

“I guess.” He chuckled, scratching his head.

“Hey, I made you that smart phone, right? I’m telling you, that shit’s the highest tech round these parts. We’ll text every day! I’ll send you pics too! You’ll still be hearing from me, and I guarantee you’ll get tired of it when I annoy you every single day.” She placed a warm hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

“Yeah, man. You’re right. You _are_ pretty annoying.”

They laugh about their beautiful friendship and hugged it out in the end before Croix had to get back to packing.

For both of them, it had been quite a while since they met someone they really enjoyed their time with. And even if they met at really terrible circumstances, perhaps it was a form of collateral beauty that Croix had to mess up on a grand scheme and for Francis to be abandoned by his magical parents just to have both of them meet at this very moment and at this very time.

“That’s beautiful, man.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

 

* * *

 

“Little lamb, I hear you’re leaving me for another place.” The psychiatrist’s face is always impartial when he speaks. Aside from his balding appearance and his overall malnourished nature, nothing seems out of place about him at a glance.

“We’re not friends, Doctor. I suggest we move things along.” Croix returns coldly.

“Noted. This report says you’ve been hearing voices?” He peered at her from his glasses.

“Voice. Singular. I’ve been thinking of giving him a name though. It’d be easier for the both of us.” Croix had considered lying to the creepy doctor or to just outright ignore him until the hour is up.

But in her experience, that didn’t prove to be beneficial to her. Although it was, in a sense, edifying as Croix now knows how a genuine psychopath’s mind works. Absolutely and grotesquely horrific, but edifying, nonetheless.

“Easier for both of you? Do you claim to be having conversations with this voice?” His eyes were soulless, Croix sees this plain as day.

“Louis doesn’t really refer to himself in first person. I just speak _at_ him most of the time.”

“Louis?”

“Yeah, I’m trying out some names. I’m sure he’ll respond if he likes it. Right, Ricky?”

“So, this voice- ”

“Elijah.”

“Right, Elijah. Now this voice, what does it sound like?”

“Well _he_ had gone silent moments ago, for some odd reason.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Dala- ”

“That sounds a lot like a girl’s name.”

“Yes, it is. He might identify as a woman, so I gave it a try. But that doesn’t seem so. Now will you shut up and let me finish?”

“Please.”

“Nelson’s voice sounds something like if you dip your hands into warm Kool-Aid.”

“…”

“…”

“Are you not going to elaborate on that?”

“What’s there to elaborate? Tony’s voice is like melted cheese that slowly drips down your face.”

“That doesn’t sound sanitary.”

“Beauty hardly is. Rafael always enunciates his words like molten lava that’s trickling down the trail, bright orange, and will absolutely burn your skin.”

“Little La-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Miss Meridies, your metaphors are all very poetic, if not rather too abstract. Can you please try and describe it in a more objective manner?”

“Well, it’s deep. Like there’s a certain ethnicity that he belongs to. And not because of the usual stereotypes! Nope! Just that it’s universally known that this ra- I mean, group of very respectable people has on average, very deep voices.”

“Miss Meridies, are you trying to say he’s black?”

“Yes! Yep, that’s the word. You said it, not me.”

“It’s perfectly fine to say that he’s black. If you hadn’t noticed, I myself am a black man.”

“Whaaat? Pff- I totally didn’t notice at all. I don’t see shtuff like that after all. We’re all a part of one big human race. I’m not racist.”

“Of course. Well, is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“Did I say that I’m not racist?”

“I was asking about your voice, Miss Meridies.”

“Oh, Right! Well, Winston’s still not responding. But yeah, his voice is deep like sizzling butter on a hot pan. Honestly? I can’t wait for him to narrate my sex life.” It was a little too late for Croix to realize that she had shared too much information than she’d care to admit. Especially when the creepy doctor had been leering at her the entire time.

Croix also felt a wave of relief at the reappearance of her fairly familiar state of mind. She’d been alone for so long, with no one there to listen about her day and her undoubtedly brilliant thoughts. Well, Francis was there for the most part, but sometimes she’d catch him spacing out whenever the topic becomes too complicated- not that she blames him for that. It’s just different.

However, now everything is changing for the better. She’s not alone with her thoughts anymore. Although at first glance, it’s a tad bit strange to be glad about something downright unsettling for most other people. But in the end, for Croix, it’s much more relieving to fill the void of emptiness in her chest even if she’ll wind up with a diagnosis of schizophrenia.

She considered to make it known to the doctor about her development, but she changed her mind at the last minute. Choosing instead to keep this knowledge to herself, the only indication of any change was a stray tear that had gone unnoticed as she had wiped it off hastily.

“Right, Let’s move on then.” The doctor then asked a series of questions which had nothing to do with the plot, and of which just contained a lot of mundane medical nonsense to either confirm or negate his impending diagnosis. He then shut his folder after scribbling some notes as he went on.

“As much as it’s a bit out of the ordinary to have this ‘voice’ you so claim to have been hearing, there really isn’t anything beyond what’s clinically considered as a medical condition. In other words- there is nothing wrong with you, Miss Meridies. And these voices, so to speak, are perfectly normal for an average person such as yourself.” He finished.

Croix was more than relieved. The hour is almost up. And the doctor just declared her to be normal. Well, as normal as she was before coming here, as the doctor had a prior diagnosis of her being a mild narcissist. Regardless, the voice in her head was declared to be an everyday occurrence, and that’s a relief to hear all the same.

With that said, the doctor prepared to stand up and see her out of his office. But just before they end their session, she felt the need to comment on a follow up information.

“Oh, by the way, Winston is an American.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, he _sounds_ American, is all I’m saying.”

Silence filled the room, as both occupants were at a standstill.

“Correct me if I’m wrong- but did you just say it’s _American?_ ” he repeated, like it was something vulgar.

At Croix’s hesitant nod, he continued:

“Ms. Meridies, in light of this new information, I’m afraid I have to diagnose you with schizophrenia and include antipsychotics to your medication.”

 

* * *

 

Chariot was surprised.

The sporadic bursts of light from the night sky allowed Croix to see her gaping face.

That is to say, Chariot came running when she went to investigate the fireworks and the excessive light show in the open field.

The field where they used to meet up every evening when Chariot wanted to show Croix her new trick. The field where they’d just lie down and look up at the stars while Chariot would point at each one and tell the story behind them. The field where Croix would haplessly stare at Chariot as she enthusiastically tells her tales. The field where Croix gradually finds out that she’s so hopelessly in love with the younger girl and she’d longed to wrap her arms around her every night they’d spent together.

She didn’t.

Those nights were all that mattered to her back then.

Now, however, she decided to employ the help of the student closest to Chariot. Although the apology to the said girl had been a bit awkward, she had all but swallowed her pride just to give Chariot the best show ever- reasonably within her capabilities that is.

After treating Akko to a meal, the girl seemed to have come up with a decision to help her pretty quickly, before dragging one Miss Cavendish along as a ‘back-up’.

The Fireworks, magical creatures, and the way everything merged together seamlessly into the perfect lightshow- was all thanks to Miss Cavendish. Everything else- the little touches, the smaller animals and the spurts of light that were endearing all the same, were all thanks to Akko.

With all that’s said and done, everything had been set up perfectly for the culmination of their long-awaited reunion.

She was waiting in the middle of the field when Chariot ran towards her as the light show was coming down to its end. The younger girl hugged her in a way that left Croix breathless, taking her in like she hadn’t had the opportunity to do so for almost a decade.

Croix’s arms instantly locked itself around the shorter girl’s waist, and Chariot had thrown her arms around Croix’s neck.

Just as they pulled apart, thousands of fireflies lit up around them all at once. Illuminating their surroundings just enough for Croix to see that their faces are just a hair’s breadth apart, bodies comfortably molded against the other’s warmth.

“Croix, it’s you. It’s really you. You’re back.” Chariot muttered, pressing her forehead against Croix’s jaw, nose burrowing against the taller girl’s neck, breathing her in.

“I am, it’s me.” She said simply, looking down at her and grinning from ear to ear. She pressed the palm of her hand against the small of Chariot’s back, squeezing their bodies flush against one another.

“I’m here, just like I promised.” She pulled back a little. Extricating her hands from around Chariot’s back. But before she could completely pull away, she felt a mild resistance from the other girl.

When Croix looked down at her, Chariot only tilted her head in question, as if she didn’t understand why Croix would want to pull away. With Chariot looking at her like that, it took everything in Croix to even breathe. In the end, she helplessly resigned herself to be stuck in Chariot’s arms for the meantime.

“Wait, how are you even here? Am I seeing things? Did you escape from prison?” Chariot started to question. Doubt and distrust apparent in her tone, but her arms remained locked around Croix’s neck.

“Relax, I’m here officially and _legally_ at that. Trust me, I wouldn’t do anything else to disappoint you further.” Croix smirked, returning her arms around Chariot’s waist when she felt that her touch wasn’t unwelcomed.

When Chariot maintained her disbelieving stare, Croix sighed and hesitantly pulled away from their embrace. She’s not hurt that Chariot didn’t fully trust her, in fact, she understood that it was her own actions that led her best friend to doubt her in the first place. Though this didn’t bother her in the slightest. Chariot had always been kind and forgiving, she knows she just had to prove to the girl she loves that she can trust her again. And from the looks of it, Chariot was already on the way to forgiving her anyway.

“Here, I just received this this morning.” Croix pulled the opened envelope from her jacket pocket and handed it to Chariot.

As Chariot inspected the contents of the letter, Croix blatantly traced her eyes over the woman’s smooth features. She can’t help it- it’s been months since Croix had seen her after all. Granted that she had lasted ten years without any sort of communication with the redhead, and they had been exchanging letters these past couple of months, it still doesn’t change how much she’d longed to see Chariot.

As Chariot carefully skimmed through the words- perhaps rereading it several times just as Croix had done earlier in incredulity of her luck- she brought her hands up back to the small of the woman’s waist, lightly tracing the side of her thumb against the warm cloth. It was an unconscious act in of itself, but she became aware of it when the shorter girl looked back up at her, startled, with a pretty blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Hey, Red.” Croix teased as their eyes met.

The nickname, as cliché as it sounds, was something of an old joke between them.

They had been standing on this very field when the appellation came to be. It had been an accident of sorts and a series of unfortunate events that had led to its admittedly hilarious creation.

Earlier that day, Chariot had apparently botched another spell that led everyone in the classroom to lose their underwear. Much to the girls’ horror, there had been a stampede as everyone rushed back to their dorm rooms to put on another pair.

It was supposed to be a simple disappearance spell. An apple was displayed in front, and the Professor had asked for a volunteer to demonstrate the said spell. Chariot had jumped in her seat too enthusiastically for the teacher to just sigh and call her name.

The procedure was simple, think long and hard of the particular object you want to disappear, recite the incantation clearly, and the wand will do its bidding.

But unfortunately, in the last moments, Chariot had thought of her dirty laundry that she had yet to wash herself. Especially how she’d worn the last clean pair of underwear she had this morning.

And as certain as a girl’s first bloom, the wand had done its bidding.

After the stampede, Chariot had an earful from the Professor.

Much too used at being scolded time and again, Chariot brushed it off like a champ and went on with her day like usual. She didn’t bother going back to her room like the other girls, since she didn’t have a clean pair to wear anyway. And she didn’t see anything wrong with going commando for the rest of the day. What with how the breeze made her feel so light and so free.

On that evening, when the time came for her and Croix to meet on the field, they flew on their brooms and made a race out of their game.

They bumped at each other mid-air, jokingly trying to push the other off their broom to send them off track. Chariot had miscalculated their increasing speed, and as she laughingly shoved the girl with her shoulder, Croix had spiraled off track and fell onto the grassy field, face first.

Thankfully, they had been racing at a low enough altitude that couldn’t have killed any human from such a fall. Still, Chariot had rushed in front of Croix in panic. She had called out in concern for her friend, and as Croix lifted her head up, a most enlightening display had been awaiting her.

Chariot’s skirt flew up as she came down from her broom. The wind from the momentum would have been enough to flash such a grandiose display. But as if lady luck wasn’t quite certain if Croix had seen them, a helpful gust of wind blew by and flipped Chariot’s skirt once more, flaunting the impressive display for another five seconds.

“Did you see?! I mean- are you okay? But also- did you see?!” Chariot’s voice came out as a squeak in the end as she pushed her skirt back down and pinned it between her thighs.

“Uhh” was Croix’s eloquent reply.

A weighted silence fell upon them as Croix was left lying on the ground and staring up at her abashed friend.

Not long after, Croix couldn’t help but burst out in laughter as Chariot got as red as her…hair.

“Pff- hahaha! Oh, don’t pout, I’m sorry! I just- haha, I just can’t help it!” she laughed some more before catching her breath, “So, you’re a natural ginger, huh?” she said, getting up to her feet, still clutching at her stomach, but not from the pain of the fall.

That had been the last straw.

Much to Croix’s disbelief, Chariot had left her in the open field with a resounding slap. She stomped away furiously before calling her an idiot, which left Croix to reflect at how this was the first time she’d seen Chariot angry.

“Oh, that was a pleasant memory.” Croix muttered, pulling the woman in her arms closer against her.

“Oh my God, shut up, Croix. You idiot.” Chariot hid her face behind the letter in her hands.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you decided _not_ to have a laundry day for two whole weeks.” She teased further, pulling the letter from Chariot’s grasp and keeping it safe in her pocket before it gets any more crumpled.

“Shut up, god, just go back to prison if you’re going to tease me about that again.” The words pricked, but Chariot had wound her arms around Croix tightly which was an indication that she didn’t mean any of it. She buried her face against Croix’s chest and clawed her nails lightly at her back, perhaps from embarrassment.

“You know that’s the only other reason I’m here, Red.” Croix gently prodded for the woman to loosen her grip, wanting to look at Chariot’s face when she finally presents her gift, her atonement. Or at least the beginnings of said atonement.

Chariot looked up at Croix as if waiting for her to start, arms now around her in a loose embrace.

“So I- I- well, that is to say- I- ” Now that she had her friend’s full attention, she’s ironically at a standstill.

She had the cure in her grasp after all, and in Croix’s _brilliant_ mind, handing the said vial to the woman would somehow equate to the most anticlimactic event of her atonement.

Earlier that day, after the godawful hour in her psychiatrist’s office, she suddenly had the most _momentous_ idea that would knock even the most dramatic of persons (i.e. Chariot du Nord) off their boots. It’s almost as if the visit to the doctor wasn’t enough to wake her up from her undeniably supreme, superfluous, and overall spectacular sense of dramaticism.

As if Francis didn’t lecture her enough about being ‘reasonable’ and even if in so far that everything has been going her way since she woke up this morning- largely because of the certain flair of romanticism involved since the conception of the story- and however much necessary it was in the beginning, _this_ , and one cannot stress this enough, is still real life!

“Good god, Winston. You could at least be a bit supportive of my decisions, you know.” She muttered, rolling her eyes and shaking her head in displeasure.

“What? Who’s Winston?” Chariot’s brows scrunched, taken aback by the unexpected subject.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just the voice in my head.” Croix brushed off smoothly.

“The _voice_ in your- ?!”

“Look Red,” Croix cut her off, silencing her with a finger against her lip, “I found the cure to the Wagandea Curse.” she grinned, pulling back her finger and caressing Chariot’s jaw with the same hand.

“What? Really? That’s great news, Croix! I knew you could do it! I mean, it’s also fine if you didn’t, because- god, I only really wanted you back, and this isn’t me pressuring you into finding a cure- but I mean, if you found it, then that’s so great!” Chariot went on, the elation in her tone was infectious.

They both giggled as they held onto each other tightly, celebrating in this joyous development.

“So? Where is it?” Chariot cocked her head curiously.

“Uh- well, I mean, I made- I made it, but- ” Croix was still at a standstill.

And to reiterate the point that had gone through her mind _repeatedly_ during her entire flight to Luna Nova- unwarranted romantic gestures are just what they appear to be: absolutely and unadulteratedly _unwarranted._

“Shut up, Winston. Not helping.” She gritted between her teeth.

“Winston? The voice in your head?” Chariot asked, concern etched in her face, “Croix, are you alright?” she prodded, thoughts of the cure momentarily forgotten.

“No- I mean, yes. I am. Don’t worry, I just- ”

“Hey, Croix, if you don’t have the cure, it’s fine. I’m just so glad you’re here and now we’re finally together after such a long time. I want you to know that I don’t want anything else. You don’t have to find the cure at all. I just want _you_. I just want my best friend back.” She assured, gently squeezing Croix in their embrace at every sentence, “You’re enough, Croix. You’ve always been enough.” She finished, much softer, burying her face against Croix’s chest after the confession.

Croix’s face heated considerably at Chariot’s sincerity. “Good god, Red. You certainly know how to make a girl blush.” She said, covering her face with a hand.

“Don’t I?” Chariot lifted her head from Croix’s chest, biting her lip.

“Yu-hup!” Croix’s face was still red, her heart had skipped a beat at the teasing tone of the woman in her arms, “I hate to disappoint though, I _did_ find the cure. It’s just- ” she paused, once again hesitant.

“You just?” Chariot urged, gently scraping her nails against Croix’s back, as if that would pose any sort of help.

“I- I just- ugh!” Croix leant her head against the shorter girl’s shoulder, before lifting it back up to face her again, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Chariot hummed, “That depends- will you stop calling me ‘Red’?” she countered.

“That’s a ‘No’ then.” Croix shook her head, chuckling in defeat.

“I promise not to laugh _too_ hard.” Chariot allowed, still biting her lip, the corners of her eyes creasing in a childish grin.

“I’ll take it.” Croix then took a deep breath and continued.

(Although at the recesses of her mind, there’s a lingering thought that there was still time to back out. In fact, it _screamed_ at her even at the very last seconds of her impending, if not downright senseless choice of committing the most blundering of all social faux pas. It _screamed_ almost too pathetically and beseechingly: Good God, Croix- _back out._ )

“I- I- the- the cure- ” she started, stuttering and halting. Perhaps her senses were coming back after all.

Just then, as Croix was left to her own stumbling mess, Chariot had apparently become impatient of the taller girl’s endless stammering and had put matters into her own hands.

She stretched forward at the tips of her toes, closed her eyes, and briefly touched her lips at the corner of Croix’s mouth.

This had proved to be an effective silencer. The woman in question was left with her mouth closing and opening repeatedly in utter astonishment.

“You were saying?” Chariot teased, seemingly not getting enough of a floundered Croix.

“True Love’s Kiss.” Croix returned, breathless.

“What?” in absolute befuddlement.

“I- what did I just- oh, god. You’re not going to let me live this down.” Croix muttered after having found her bearings. But what’s done is done. And she’ll just have to live up to what she just said.

“Red,” she started, pulling Chariot’s chin between her fingers, “the cure to the Wagandea curse,” she pulled her face closer, leaning her forehead against her friend’s, “is True Love’s Kiss.”

Silence enveloped the two women; a cool breeze blew by which effectually cooled down Croix’s temperature for a moment. But as quickly as it came and left, the heat on her face just felt all the more prominent just because of its sudden absence.

Chariot’s eyes darted from her own, then down to her mouth. She’d been enamored with Croix’s words, a ready reply at her own lips. But for some reason, she held her tongue. Squinting instead at the taller girl’s lips as if she had noticed something out of the ordinary.

It is imperative to note, that as apparent as how the following events will play out, there is no one, _absolutely nobody else_ is to blame other than one Croix Meridies herself.

Her conscience, her state of mind, her newfound true and tested friend, who she had affectionately dubbed as the Voice in Her Head- Her Winston, has, in no way, any hand in this.

She had unfortunately vetoed any such grand and sagely advice that was all but thrusted at her face. The humiliation, the embarrassment, the absolute _shame_ that was involved just from metaphorically going down on one’s knees, begging, beseeching, _pleading_ , for one Croix Meridies to not go through the path towards the most mortifying gaucherie of her generation, was enough evidence to wash one’s hands of. And to end this note, only two words remain: For. Shame.

“For the love of- Winston, you’re so fucking dramati- ”

“The shade of your lipstick looks…odd.” Chariot said distractedly, scrunching her brows as she inspected Croix’s lips. Lifting her finger to brush softly against it.

She then looks down at her finger in speculation.

“This is such a peculiar shade on you. Wait.” As realization dawned on Chariot’s veneer, Croix’s face only grew more heated by the second.

“Oh. My. Goodness. Are you for real, Croix?” Chariot pushed her by the shoulder, effectively extricating herself from Croix’s warmth, much to the latter’s dismay, “Oh god, Croix. I didn’t know you were such a sap!” she laughed out loudly, clutching at her stomach.

“Are you quite done?” Croix crossed her arms, raising a brow at Chariot who had been laughing at her for almost a full minute.

“I’m sorry! It’s just-!” she took a breath to steady herself, but her teasing grin remained, “Okay, tell me if I’m wrong, but did you just turn the Cure- a cure that nobody in history has ever procured and as of today only _you_ have achieved such a feat- to the Wagandea Pollen Curse, a legendary curse that has been depicted in many ancient slabs unique to the Arcturus Forest, mind you, into a _lipstick_ of all things?!” she then burst into another bout of giggles, wiping small stray tears at the corner of her eyes.

“You went through _all_ that effort as a set up for the most _cliché line_ in the universe! Oh my god, I’m having such a laugh right now.”

Perhaps the karmic cycles were at work here. She _had_ once laughed at Chariot for the poor choices she made in her youth. The difference however, and one couldn’t emphasize enough that the existing difference is one of a mammoth sized, colossal, gigantic difference- as Chariot’s mistake was borne from childish naivety, but Croix, oh Croix had proper guidance. A sagacious counsel who had tried. _Tried._ To lead this lost soul to the right path. But no. No, she apparently knew better. Perhaps next time, she’d know better to actually _listen_ to such sagely advice. But lo, her conscience can only now tell her that it had told her so.

“You don’t need to pour anymore gasoline, Winston. I’m already on fucking fire.” She muttered, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Chariot seemed to have had enough of laughing at Croix’s expense.

“Alright,” the redhead chuckled, shaking her head. She closed the short distance between Croix and herself, effectually molding their bodies back into their warm embrace.

“So? Get on with it, then. True Love’s Kiss, right?” Chariot looked up at her beneath her long lashes, biting her lower lip.

“Uh-huh” Croix just stared dazedly at the woman in her arms, mulling at how only moments ago this same woman was laughing at her pathetic attempt at courtship.

“Croix?” she called, cocking her head. “I mean, I could wait. I _did_ wait for you for ten years. What’s another hour?” her tone was teasing, but it was apparent that she was in no such hurry.

Although the Chariot that Croix remembers had always been hasty- be it from chanting spells, and learning new tricks on a broom, she had also always been patient about one thing. The knowledge that this hasn’t changed even after a long time brought another burst of warmth to bloom at the core of her chest.

She started to lean in, her eyes trained at the other’s lips, but her doubts made her pull away at the last second.

“I- I’m sorry. But are you- are you- “ an unfortunate spurt of panic.

“Croix?” Chariot’s features quickly turned to concern, as she rubbed her hands along Croix’s arms to try and calm her.

“I’m sorry.” She took a breath, “I mean, I just- are you sure? About me? W-would it be okay if I was your T-true Love?” she looked away, vulnerable under Chariot’s gaze.

“Oh, Croix.” The tone made her heart drop, but her assumptions proved to be wrong when she felt Chariot press herself deeper into her arms, burying her head against Croix’s chest for the nth time.

“Of course. God, of course I’m sure.” She pulled back to look at her, “I don’t mean to steal one of your cliché one-liners, but I’ve loved you for forever, Croix.”

“R-really? I, I mean, that’s yes. I mean- uhm wow.” She stuttered at the unexpected confession. “I, I,” she coughed into her fist to try and straighten herself, “I mean, I’m sorry I had to go the long way around to find out. B-but I’ve loved you for a long time too, Chariot.”

“Okay.” She smiled, bright and genuine. She tilted her head, her loose hair spilling from behind her ear.

Croix involuntarily glides a hand up from the girl’s waist, lifting it up to touch her throat, tipping her head gently to the side by the jaw and dipping her fingers into red hair.

“Wow, you’re so beautiful.” Croix blurted out unintentionally.

“Am I?” Chariot just shook her head, pressing her face into Croix’s palm with her eyes glinting mischievously. Her prominent blush, however, betrayed her superficial confidence.

And god, Croix was besotted.

She couldn’t help but lean in slowly, asking for Chariot’s consent with her eyes, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. But Chariot just closed her own, leaning forward, and bracing herself for Croix to finally press their lips together.

At the last second, Croix pulls away.

“Uh- I uhm, I just need to- oh, don’t pout, it’s sorta important. I know I ruined the mood, alright, I’m sorry.” She leaned her forehead against Chariot’s to appease her, “Also, I don’t mean to be disgusting and all, but the cure is kinda all over my lips, so you have to sorta lick it if you- hup!”

Chariot pulled at her collar so suddenly, making her lean forward heavily against the woman and crashing their lips together. Their teeth clashed and they both winced in pain, but after a few seconds, they found their momentum as they slowly forgot everything and merely felt each other’s warmth.

Chariot’s softness was mesmerizing to Croix, and when she felt the woman’s tongue flick out to lick at her lips, she instinctively deepened the kiss.

And although she had bumped into Chariot’s glasses several times, she decided to ignore it as she’s too afraid at the consequences of pulling away from the fierceness of the woman’s lips.

Well, she’s not too afraid, per se. She had one last important thing to tell her after all.

She quickly pulled away, eager to inform Chariot of her thought lest she forgets.

“Okay, so don’t be mad,” she hastily called when Chariot had looked up at her in a slight frown, “It’s important, I promise. So, I have this back-up vial of the cure here just in case the lipstick wasn’t- oop!”

Chariot pulled at her collar once again, but instead of crashing their lips once more, she gave Croix a stern warning, “Shut up and just kiss me, you adorable idiot. You have ten years’ worth of kisses to make up for.”

Croix couldn’t really complain if she put it like that, so she complies all too willingly.

It was a most romantic scene of two lovers surrounded by the dim light of fireflies. Their attention solely upon each other, basking only in the other’s radiance. Their embrace, gentle and warm, holding a sense of longing as they clutched at the other loosely, devoid of any possessiveness even after they’ve been without the other for so long.

It was certainly a scene to behold. One might even remark- if they had been through this journey since its conception and had seen it through thick and thin- that it has been an honor, truly. And as certain as the apple will fall from the tree, their future will surely be full of happiness.

Perhaps there were times when this such promising conclusion was only a vague concept, as many pertinent bumps on the road had been encountered. Still, at the back of Croix’s mind, she was in absolute certainty that her conscience hadn’t actually given up on her throughout her progress.

Carrying this indisputable feeling in her heart, she felt a certain sense of contentment and gratuity at the willful providence that had oh so gloriously blessed her with its enlightening guidance.

“Suck it, Winston. I got the girl.”

 

* * *

 

 “Diana! Why are you walking away? Don’t leave me here!”

“I don’t see why I need to stay. I’ve already done my part in this embellished nonsense.”

“But _my_ part is not done! Croix told me to take a video of everything!”

“Well, that’s _your_ problem.”

“Nuoooo! Diana! Don’t leave me! I’m your girlfriend! And I reserve the right to be pampered when I want to! You promised!”

“Oh, for the love of-! What would you have me do then?”

“Hmm…can you please hug me from behind? My back is cold.”

“Mm”

“Ahh warmth. Thanks, Diana.”

“I don’t see any reason why such an affair has to be documented.”

“Croix said she wanted to show it to her friend, Francis. I think he’s her imaginary friend, it’s pretty adorable.”

“Uh-huh”

“I can’t believe after all the effort we’ve gone through, we still have to watch our teachers macking at each other.”

“If they start taking off their clothes, I’m leaving.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out Stanley’s Parable if you want more of this sort of nonsense because that masterpiece is nothing compared to this shit.


End file.
